


The Threequel

by watyonameisgurl



Series: Twelve Verse [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (but only a little) - Freeform, (ot5 as in the 1d boys and also ot5 as in zayn and the other operatives), Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Gore, Codependency, Crime Fighting, Enhanced Abilities, Enhanced Senses, M/M, OT5 Friendship, Recovery, Revenge, as usual may be updating tags as I post again, ot6 friendship, vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watyonameisgurl/pseuds/watyonameisgurl
Summary: [AKA 3.0 AKA The Extended Epilogue AKA The Adventures of the Rogue Supersoldiers]Zayn’s still got unfinished business to take care of and he fully intends on crossing all his T’s and dotting all his I’s. T’s and I’s by which he means leveling some threats and doling out a few black eyes while tracking down the remaining bastards that managed to get away or get off scot-free. Though that won’t be for long if he can help it. Because he’s out for justice and unlike the courts he won’t be letting anyone off quite so easily. And this time he’s not alone either.





	1. The One Where Zayn Gets Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. i’ve given it a lot of thought and i’ve decided i really wanna make this into more of an interactive thing, kinda like a choose your own adventure thing but with more direct input from you guys so while the first few chapters will be original, after that (unless any other ideas come to me) i’ll most likely only be updating based on prompts/requested scenarios left in the comments (meaning if no one leaves a comment with a prompt/request there won’t be anymore updates until you do, so comment comment comment!) you can also send me your prompts via [tumblr](https://yaz-the-spaz.tumblr.com/) if you prefer, on anon or otherwise, it’s all up to you but I just really wanted to do something different and make this more of a fun adventury thing! :)
> 
> side note: i know a lot of people have a strong aversion to leaving comments on here so there’s a good chance this might not end up working out so i just wanna say now apologies in advance to any of those who do decide to participate if this ends up going nowhere but we'll see I guess...
> 
> title for the fic is threefold cause as i'm sure ya'll well know by now I'm indecisive af and of course couldn't settle on just one title smh so i just went with them all lol, and the chapter title is inspired by Friends (remember that one time I joked about naming all my chapters like Friends episodes? well now we're actually doing it lol) anyway that's all I have to say for now, hope you enjoy this latest foray into the Twelve Universe and can't wait to read you all's thoughts and reactions!

Zayn feels the rumble of the uneven pavement underneath him as he cruises through the dark city streets, squished in the backseat of a truck, his hands bound with duct tape that he could rip through like tissue paper if he wanted. Two guards flank him, huge hulking men that by the looks of it are more show than anything. They may be big but from what he’d seen of them when they “caught” him, they’re slow and don’t seem to have too much going on upstairs, to say nothing of their actual fighting skill which is probably mediocre at best, nowhere near a match for him even on his worst day.

Even better, they’re blissfully unaware that they’re being followed. Don’t even seem to notice the van that’s been following two cars behind them for the last eight miles or so that Zayn can see plain as day in the rearview mirror. It’s hard to keep himself from smirking, even with the barrel of a nine-millimeter pointed menacingly against his side to him still and quiet. He could tear right through the tape and empty the clip of not only that gun but also the one clipped to the belt of the guy on his other side before either of his “chaperones” even knew what happened, knock both them and the driver out and take the wheel if he wanted. But he doesn’t. That’s not part of the plan.

Instead he lets himself be driven to the edge of town, shoved out of the truck and into some empty warehouse out in the middle of nowhere that’s probably meant to scare him but only has him laughing inwardly at how cliché his target continues to be. Lets himself be punched a few times, only putting up a minimal fight and then pretending to go down so he looks more unsuspecting as he’s dragged inside and cuffed to a chair.

They leave him sitting there alone for a while, bruised and bleeding and, looking to them anyway, half-conscious, partly as a scare tactic probably to give him time to work himself into a panic over what might coming next and partly to wait for their boss, his target, to arrive. Zayn hears two cars pull up after about an hour and, head bowed, smiles a bit to himself, because everything is going exactly as planned.

Hours earlier he’d purposefully tripped the alarm in the guy’s office so it’d look to his security like Zayn had just been caught snooping around when really he and his team had already been in and out of the guy’s house the night before while him and his family were soundly asleep. Broken into his safe and gotten everything they needed. NDA’s, employee contracts, even a few files on former operatives that were thought to have been destroyed in the shutdown, and more. His signature on most, and even references to his offshore banking account information on a few. All of this extra fanfare really wasn’t necessary to pin him, but the opportunity had been too good to resist and they’d all been itching for a bit of fun. Plus the added bonus of getting the chance to force a confession out of the assholes never hurts.

A door on the far side of the wall to the right opens and closes heavily, slow, measured footsteps echoing across the wide space and Zayn makes a show of struggling to lift his head, making his breathing sound a bit more labored and rattled, hunching his shoulders as much as he can so he looks the perfect picture of defeated, broken down, ready to give in.

His target has arrived.

And by the light thud of bodies falling outside, so has his team.

“Who sent you?” are the first words out of the man, Smith’s, mouth, barked out harsh and loud.

Zayn doesn’t answer. Lets his head loll like he’s too out of it to even comprehend the question, much less answer.

The two goons from earlier, who had come back inside with Smith, now stand guard by the door. Judging from the number of heartbeats outside that have since slowed significantly, since the man’s arrival Zayn’s guessing he brought extra security with him for dramatic effect, or maybe a show of power—not that it really matters since it wouldn’t have changed anything anyway—five of whom are all down now, plus the driver of the truck Zayn came in, all thanks to his team. He can hear their slightly elevated heartbeats hovering just outside the same door the man came in. Listening. Waiting.

“ _Who sent you_?” Smith repeats even louder, like speaking louder would somehow make Zayn more capable of speech. Were he really incapacitated that is. If he were anyone else he probably really would be barely conscious right now with how hard they hit him. For as shitty as the guards may be when it comes to any kind of technique or skill, they certainly make up for it in brute strength. A normal person his size wouldn’t probably even be capable of speech right now, which means he’s got to keep up the charade. At least for the moment.

“I said, who _fucking_ sent you? _Answer me_ ,” Smith says again, stepping closer this time. “I know it wasn’t the Russians, they don’t work with your kind. So who was it, huh?” Smith steps right up to him, crouching down so he’s eye-level with Zayn, spit flying into Zayn’s face. “Was it the Chinese? The Turks? The Arabs? The fucking Italians?”

Zayn lets his breath rattle.

“Who the _fuck_ do you work for?” Smith yells right into his face, breath hot and acrid.

When Zayn still doesn’t answer Smith stands, blowing out a frustrated breath as he paces back and forth in front of Zayn. “Let me explain something to you since you clearly don’t seem to know how this works. One of two things is going to happen tonight. You’re going to tell me who sent you and you’re going to tell me what they sent you for. And _maybe_ …I’ll consider letting you go to warn your boss of what’s coming to him, though I can’t promise you’ll be all in one piece as penances must be paid of course. _Or_ …you don’t tell me what I want to know and I _can_ promise you that your end will be very, very painful and very, very slow and, if you still have your tongue, you _will_ be begging me to kill you before it’s over. Now,” at this he crouches back down in front of Zayn with a sinister smile, “what will it be? Door number one? Or door number two?”

“One,” Zayn rattles out, long and slow and drawn out like it’s a struggle to even get that out.

“Excellent.” Smith’s smile widens. “Now. _Who_ sent you?”

“Mother,” Zayn whispers faintly.

“What?” Smith says, brows crinkling as he leans in to hear Zayn better.

“Your…mother,” Zayn repeats in a labored wheeze.

Smith pulls back, glaring at him, and this time Zayn can’t hold back his smirk.

Smith seethes when he sees the expression on Zayn’s face and he stands abruptly. “That’s how you wanna play it? Fine. Let’s see how you feel after Roland here’s made souvenirs of your fingers. Roland!” he calls, turning as he beckons behind himself.

“Sorry. Roland can’t come to the phone right now,” comes Sam’s voice in answer from where he stands next to Roland’s now unconscious body, flanked by Alec, Rory, Kira, and the other guard’s unconscious body. In the same moment that Smith had been busy seething over Zayn’s taunts, the others had already finessed their way inside and knocked both Roland and the other guard out in complete silence.

Smith stares, flabbergasted, looking back and forth between Zayn and the others before it all seems to click. And he turns back to Zayn in shock.

“Y— _you_ ,” he says, breathless. “From the—the trial—”

“Karma’s just a bitch, isn’t it?” Zayn says, finally speaking in his normal voice again as he stands, easily snapping the handcuffs from the metal chair and yanking them off his wrists, twisting and crumpling the metal in his hands and letting the garbled hunks clatter to the floor.

“L—Look, I have a wife, okay? And a daughter…please just—I’ll do whatever you want, okay? Just—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Your wife’s being sent copies of all the evidence of your dirty little deeds as we speak,” Rory says with a smile, arms crossed. “Doubt she’ll ever wanna see or speak to you again, much less let you see your kid. Bet you thought it was so smart, keeping hard copies of everything locked away so you wouldn’t have a paper trail to track online. A+ for effort. Really. Only thing is you forgot you had a whole arsenal of supersoldiers you helped create that as it just so happens were expertly trained by _your_ fine, upstanding employees on how to break into high-security houses and, wouldn’t you know it, top-grade safes all without making a sound. Funny that.” She shrugs, shaking her head and snorting like it really is just a funny coincidence.

“You know what else is funny?” Alec adds. “I seem to remember quite a bit of that training including torture tactics that would be just _perfect_ for this exact situation. So strange how things work out, isn’t it?”

“Strange indeed,” Zayn agrees with a smirk. He reaches out to grab Smith by the collar, yanking him down into the metal seat. Kira tosses him a pair of zipties—much cheaper than handcuffs and more painful if used in just the right wrong way—and he makes sure to tie them too tight. “Now. Two things are gonna happen tonight. You’re gonna confess. And you’re gonna go to jail. Unfortunately there is no door number two for you. You lost that luxury the minute you decided to help fund the program all those years ago. The only question is whether we feel nice enough not to torture you for days anyway and bury your body where no one’ll ever find it.”

“And as you know we’re _very_ well-versed in torture,” Sam adds with a smirk and waggle of his eyebrows.

Kira steps forward then, walks right up to him without a word and runs a fingernail down the side of his face like she’s calculating, imagining where she’s gonna make him bleed first, then flashing a slow, menacing smile, all sharp canines and sinister eyes. She looks downright evil. Like she can’t wait to take him apart piece by piece and revel in his screams. Her continued silence only makes the whole thing seem even more ominous and Smith looks absolutely terrified.

He looks around at them all and, taking their cues from Kira, they all adopt the most sinister expressions to heighten the effect. Alec breaks the silence by laughing, but it’s a chilling kind of laughter, manic, hollow. It echoes throughout the warehouse, bouncing off the walls and reverberating all around them, Kira joining in, and what follows is the distinct smell of piss.

They get their confession.

Hours of Smith stuttering over himself in his haste to get all the details out and avoid what he believes to be impending torture.

In the end they leave him knocked out in front of the police station, handcuffed to the railing with a large envelope full of copies of all the files from his safe and a USB with the recorded confession—a copy of which also gets sent to his wife for good measure—stapled to his chest.

He may or may not have an untraceable drug in his system that causes unbearable pain at a dosage high enough to last for days on end in normal people. And if he does, well. By time anyone finds him it’ll be too late for any kind of pain reliever or retroactive to have much of an effect.

*

“Top story tonight: Jobs in the security sector are experiencing a bit of a boom as of late thanks to the influx of former operatives joining the workforce in the wake of the trial and the initial recovery period coming to a close for many. As to be expected, there are many conflicting feelings all around but the Foundation has released a statement thanking their donors, as well as all those who have been involved in caring for the operatives and raising awareness of their situation, for their continued support and have expressed their hope for the public’s support and understanding as well, as many of them make the difficult transition into the workforce and school settings.

“In other news, yet another former defendant acquitted in the trial and believed to be involved with the program was discovered handcuffed and unconscious in front of a police station this morning, accompanied by a mysterious envelope, which some speculate may have contained evidence, of some sort, of his alleged crimes. Reports say he was left there sometime between midnight and four AM by an unknown assailant who was unfortunately not caught on tape as the security cameras were down during that time. This now makes the third person with alleged former ties to the program to have been found in such a state. While we have received word that the man was subsequently taken into custody upon his discovery, police are concerned that these may be the acts of a vigilante and are asking anyone who may have been in the area during that time to contact them if they saw anything suspicious or have any information that may help in the investigation to track down this vigilante.”

“I still can’t believe you let them hit you,” Liam says with a sigh, flicking off the telly and running his fingers over Zayn’s face gingerly, the two of them sat cuddled up together on the couch.

Zayn shrugs. “Had to play my part, make it look believable. Besides it was fun and the bruises’ll be practically gone by tomorrow anyway.”

They’ve already mostly faded. Any swelling had been gone within just a few hours, small cuts scabbed over, so that now he’s just left with a few dark marks around his left eye and jaw and over his ribs that likely will have completely faded away by this time a couple days from now.

“Ow!” he yelps loudly, jerking away when Liam’s fingers skim over the worst of the bruises by his eye.

Liam yanks his hand away, face going scandalized as he stutters out curses and apologies and Zayn can’t help laughing.

“I’m just messing with you, that didn’t even hurt.” Liam shoves at his shoulder in annoyance and Zayn puts hands up in surrender, still laughing. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t resist, it was too easy.”

“Arsehole. You’re the worst.”

“You love it.”

Liam rolls his eyes but he lets Zayn curl back around him anyway, cards gentle fingers through Zayn’s hair while the afternoon sun shines on them through the window.

*

“Alright, guys, our hour’s up, see you all next week, yeah?”

A general hubbub starts up as everyone in the circle stands and gathers their things, making conversation with each other and grabbing snacks from the table off to the side as they file out through the double doors and the one side door.

The stragglers leftover from the meeting help Zayn stack up the chairs and clean up.

“Thanks, guys, I’m good from here,” Zayn says once the chairs and the snack table have all been folded up and stacked to the side and all the stray rubbish cleared away. There’s no snacks left. There rarely is after these things what with all their appetites. The bin’s surely full though and he waves the others out before going to empty it.

As he’s securing the bin bag to take it out to the dump though there’s a knock on the doorway of the side door and Zayn looks up to find Hannon there, leaning against the frame.

“Operatives Anonymous thing’s going well, then, I take it?”

Zayn smiles. “Yeah…yeah, bigger and bigger every week. Starting to think I may need to rent out another building with more space.”

“Careful, you just might jinx yourself,” Hannon jokes as he saunters inside, looking around the large space. “You know, you guys sure have come a long way these last few months…seems like just yesterday I was sat in here listening to you give your big press conference speech. Crazy to think that was almost a year ago now.”

Zayn shrugs. “Yeah, well, we’ve got you and Lauren and a ton of others to thank for that.”

“Eh, we helped, but…this? This was all you guys. You and your little superteam.” He smiles. “Speaking of superteam, thought you’d be happy to know your guys are doing well over at the precinct. Think we’ve closed more cases in the last couple months since some of the ops joined the force, than we had in probably a year before they came.”

“Yeah?” Zayn says brightly. “I’m really glad to hear they’re settling in okay. Some of them have mentioned in the meetings how hard it’s been making the transition with the public’s general perception of us, especially the ones on the force.”

“Mmm, well, settling in might be a bit too nice a way of putting it. Some of the other guys on the force still aren’t too keen on the whole thing and the hazing still hasn’t really let up—not that your guys mind that of course—but the way I see it, they can’t keep it up forever. Sooner or later they’ll come around to the ops being here to stay and if not they can always just shut up or transfer.”

“Ah, is that your new tag line then? ‘Shut up or transfer’?”

Hannon snorts. “Might as well be. Thinking of getting a sign for my door at this rate cause the number of pissant rookies that come to me wasting their time complaining and whining about it is honestly driving me mad. You know one kid had the nerve to call me a traitor to my face just the other week for defending you lot?”

“ _Seriously_?”

“Yeah, little runt bout your size ‘cept with half the strength and none of the balls to back it up. Barely even been on the force long enough to get his dick wet and only made half as many arrests as the ops have despite being on the job about twice as many months.” Hannon shakes his head. “Punter’s lucky I’m too old to give a shit. If he’d caught me in my younger days I would’ve done his face in, but as it is I just let him off with a warning and a not so polite version of my ‘shut up or transfer’ speech.”

“Well, _I’d_ be happy to do his face in you like.”

Hannon huffs a laugh. “Thanks, but I think I scared him plenty enough already. Plus at this rate it would only end up making things worse. Things are contentious enough as it is already and of course the recent vigilante arrests aren’t exactly helping the tension.” Hannon looks at him pointedly. “You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Zayn schools his features into a bewildered look and shakes his head. “No. Nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?”

Zayn shrugs apologetically. “Just what I heard on the news…sorry.”

Hannon doesn’t look like he believes him, but he just smiles knowingly before jerking his down at the bin bag. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’d offer to help, but I know you don’t need it. I’d probably just slow you down,” he jokes, chuckling. “Liam still in? Thought I’d pop in and say hello to him too while I’m here.”

“Yeah, he’s just upstairs. I’ll let him know you’re coming so you don’t get hounded by Kate again.”

“She’s a bit of a stickler for appointments that one, eh?”

Zayn laughs, nodding. “A bit, yeah.”

Zayn shoots Liam a quick text and waves Hannon off, taking down the OA meeting signs from all the multi-purpose room doors and hauling the rubbish bag outside.

*

Hours later he’s back down in the basement, hunched in front of a computer screen with Danny and the rest of his team prepping for their next target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos = LOVE :)


	2. The One With the Helicopter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi to the one person still reading this...
> 
> so i just wanna say to anyone still here that i'm so so sorry it's taken me so long to update...tbh i've just kind of lost all motivation for this fic...after the first chapter i got hit with a bit of writer's block and so i re-read over 2.0 to try to get myself "back into the zone" so to speak, thinking it might get me excited again and give me some inspiration for scenes for this fic but instead it just ended up making me feel even more discouraged and disappointed realizing how much of it was just absolute garbage, especially towards the end, and why so many people stopped reading/lost interest after a certain point. 
> 
> anyway i'm probably just gonna blow through posting these last few chapters as quickly as possible and they're probably gonna be shit and i'm sorry cause you guys deserved a better ending than you got in 2.0 and you deserve better closure than what you're probably gonna get in the ending of this epilogue but just know that i appreciate you so much for sticking around at all (if anyone's even reading this). alright enough of my rambling now onto the story...

“Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers!” Sam yells as he comes swinging down on a grappling hook, knocking out a whole row of guards like bowling pins.

Zayn and the others follow, making a much less dramatic entrance as they slide down from the roof to land on the helipad jutting out from one side of military base where their current target is trying to make his escape.

“What part of a quiet entrance do you not understand?” Alec says as he secures all the now half-conscious guards with zipties while their target ducks back inside the doorway he’d been exiting onto the helipad from.

“Nice try, asshole,” Rory mutters with a smirk as she and Kira bound over through the doorway and down the stairs after him.

The pilot, attempting to land the helicopter their target called when his security alerted him they were on the premises, panics when he’s close enough to catch sight of what’s happening on the helipad and tries to make his way back up but it’s too late. He’s too close to the ground, close enough for Zayn and Alec to reach up to the landing skids and yank it back down to the ground before he can get any further.

Once it’s grounded Sam runs around to the side the pilot’s on, opening the door and yanking the man out.

“You ever work for the program?” he spits at the man over the noise of the helicopter, still running until Alec hops in and shuts off the engine. When Zayn and Alec join him on the other side Sam has a hand over the man’s neck, not gripping but just loose enough to be a threat as he pins him to the ground, the pilot’s hands up in surrender.

“W—what?”

“You ever work for the fucking program?” Sam says again.

“N-no, _no_ , I swear. I’ve only worked for this guy a few months, okay? I swear I don’t know anything, just _please_ —” he shakes his head emphatically, cutting himself off. He’s shaking, eyes wide and terrified and his heartbeat thumps fast out of fear but there’s no change as he gives his answer. He’s telling the truth.

“Get the fuck outta here,” Sam spits, giving him a harsh shove back and the man scrambles up and dashes away from them.

Not a moment later Kira drops a body at their feet.

Their target’s cuffed and unconscious with a nasty bruise marring his bald head and, judging by his strained heartbeat, already been injected with their special concoction. Kira and Rory share a brief kiss and mirroring smirks that Zayn’s quickly learned is their “you’re so hot taking down bad guys and I can’t wait to rip your clothes off later” look.

Alec and Sam roll their eyes.

Zayn flicks on his comms. “Hey, target’s secured, we’re ready for load-up.”

“Roger that, on the way.”

They leave the guards. They’ve been casing the target and his security for a few days already and it’s clear they’re just goons. Too stupid to have ever worked for the program. And thanks to another one of their special concoctions they won’t remember enough of this when they wake up to identify anything about any of them, much less what happened tonight. Someone’ll find them eventually come morning.

Zayn spots their van pulling into the car park below and he, Sam, and Alec all re-secure their waist harnesses to their grappling hooks, Alec’s loosened enough to secure the unconscious target in his harness with him.

Rory and Kira though are still standing in the middle of the helipad eyeing the helicopter.

Zayn rolls his eyes and shakes his head but. “Go ahead. But be quick about it,” he says.

Kira grins, pulling Rory towards it.

Once they’re at the van, the doors fly open and Danny’s smiling face greets them. They dump the target’s body inside and hop in but when Danny sees there’s only three of them his smile falters.

“Where’s—”

“Busy,” Alec says before Danny can even finish his question.

Moments later Rory’s voice comes in through their comms, sounding slightly out of breath. “Don’t bother waiting, decided we’ll be commandeering the ‘copter after anyway. Catch you assholes later.” And then their comms are silent again.

Sam makes a face. “If we ever use that thing for a mission, consider this my opt-out.”

*

“Oi!” Niall crows, both hands in the air and grinning from to ear to ear when he sees them all come through the door of The Craic. He’s behind the bar, helping tend to drinks even though he doesn’t really need to—he just likes to cause it makes him feel helpful, gives him something to do when there’s no other problems to tend to and as he puts it, it “brings him back to his roots.” When he sees them though he waves them over excitedly and dings the bell on the little ledge that separates the kitchen from the bar. “A round of crack burgers, Kev!”

It reminds Zayn of the first night, when they’d all come in high on adrenaline and life and the still-sheer disbelief that they’d just done what they did and Niall had been so excited on their behalf that he’d automatically offered them a round of drinks before remembering that their “round” was more like a bottle each.

“Alright, this is gonna have to be a one-time thing cause if I keep this up I’ll be out of half my stock of alcohol every time you take another fucker down,” he’d said, passing them each their own bottle, “but tonight you deserve it! Tonight you drink like kings!”

Zayn smiles recalling the memory as Niall turns back to them with a proud grin of his own.

“Liam?” Zayn says hopefully.

Niall smiles. “Don’t worry, your boy’s upstairs waiting for you. The rest of the gang too.” Niall frowns then, looking around them all. “Is it just the four of you tonight? Where’s Kory?”

Kory’s the ship name everyone’s taken to calling Rory and Kira given the fact that they’re pretty much never part. Everyone jokes that they’re basically a unit, more like one person split into two bodies than two individual people, which is about how it’s always been anyway so Zayn supposes it’s apt.

“Busy. Target had a helicopter.” Zayn doesn’t need to say anything more for Niall to cotton on. He just raises his eyebrows, then smiles and gives a sharp, knowing nod. He turns back to ding the kitchen bell again. “Make that four, Kev.”

Minutes later they’re all bounding up the stairs with their burgers. Liam, Louis, Harry, and Sarah are all sat around at one of the booths in the little roped off makeshift VIP section in the back corner and Zayn hops the rope and plops down into Liam’s lap, setting his burger on the table next to all the empty pint glasses and the half-eaten platter of chips.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Liam says eyes wide and bright, a slight tone of surprise to his voice even as his hand automatically go to wrap around Zayn’s waist. “You’re early.”

Zayn shrugs, smirks. “Target was too easy.”

Looking around Zayn spots some of the other former operatives in security uniforms manning the floors. The Craic’s kind of become operative central* over the last couple of months and not everyone’s happy about it. They’d lost some workers and some patronage, but for every worker they lost that opened up a new slot for another operative that not many others were looking to hire to take their place and that Niall was happy to bring on board. And as for the customers, well there’s always more coming and for all the ones that parted ways with them there were an equal number who were still willing, and even eager, to come back. Among the more progressive patronage it’s even gained a reputation as pretty much the safest club in town. Fights get stopped before they even really start, rowdy arseholes never even get a chance to make it past the door, any hint of assault or suspicious activity inside is stopped right in its tracks, and you can bet no one’s making it in with any kind of concealed weapons. Plus everyone loves Kevin’s food and Niall’s energy. Business is good. Everything is good.

Zayn inhales his burger and enjoys a bit of good-natured ribbing with everyone at the table, Liam warm and solid against his back and then goes to check-in with some of the newer hires, see how they’re settling in.

On the far wall of the club floor are Lenny and Mia, a couple of younger ops, both eighteen and fresh out of Foundation care, only been working here about a week and only been home for a little over a month. They straighten up when they see Zayn coming, backs going ramrod straight against the wall.

“Relax, guys,” Zayn says with a smile when he’s close enough, hands up. “I was just coming to check in on you all, see how you’re settling in.”

“Oh, um, we’re okay,” Lenny says, tension in his shoulders easing a bit.

“Yeah, Niall’s been really nice, everyone has,” Mia adds.

“Yeah? And you’re liking it here alright?”

Lenny nods enthusiastically. “It’s great! I mean we actually get paid to watch people now and Kevin’s crack burgers are amazing. It’s, like, the best job ever. Seriously, thank you so much.”

Zayn smiles. “It’s no problem, and that’s good, I’m glad to hear it. Don’t ever hesitate to let Niall know though if you’re having any trouble, okay? We all have our days, there’s no shame in it.”

He’s met with more enthusiastic nods and, considering his check-in done, is just about to head back to his table when Mia says, “Did you get ‘em?”

“Sorry?” he says, turning back to her with furrowed brows.

“Whoever you went after tonight. It’s you, isn’t it? You and the others from your team?” she jerks her chin in the direction of the booth. “The ones that have been going after the people that got off?”

Lenny kicks at Mia giving her a look that clearly reads _shut up_ before turning back to Zayn. “Sorry, she wasn’t supposed to say anything but…some of us have suspected for a while,” Lenny says a bit sheepishly. “Every time someone else gets caught, the night before it gets announced on the news Alec and Sam and Kory are always conveniently ‘off-duty,’ and you guys usually all come in here together pretty late plus Liam and the others are always waiting for you. We just kind of put two and two together.”

“Oh, um…” Zayn starts, not really sure what to say. He’d known they would probably figure it out eventually, it’s not exactly like he and the others were hiding it or anything, he just hadn’t anticipated that they’d figure it out quite this soon. Hadn’t thought anyone had been paying that close attention to him. Though he supposes that was a little arrogant of him not to give them the credit they’re due. They’ve got the same skills he’s got, the same training, the same aptitude for detail. Just because most of them are younger or hadn’t spent quite as much time in the program as him and his team doesn’t mean they’re any less observant than he is.

“Everyone who knows thinks it’s really cool by the way…you know, what you guys are doing and all,” Mia adds. “Some of us were hoping that…you know…if you ever maybe wanted some help—not that you need it or anything—but just like…if you wanted it or, like, if you didn’t mind…maybe…some of us could join you sometime?”

Zayn raises his eyebrows, looking back and forth between them both in surprise. “Yeah? Seriously?”

Lenny nods emphatically. “ _Way_ serious, you’re like…a god, mate. There’s tons of people who’d join just to get the chance to fight with you. But, like, you know, also getting the chance to help kick the arses of the people who tortured us would be pretty amazing too. If it’s okay with you, of course. We don’t wanna, like, impose or anything…”

Zayn shakes his head. “No, not at all, I just didn’t realize there was so much interest I guess. I mean, not even everyone from my former team was up for it. The others they wanted to focus on getting better, living normal lives and that, no more fighting, you know? And I guess I just figured that’s what most of you guys would want too but, I mean, we could always use more manpower.”

“ _Really_?” Mia says excitedly.

“Yeah, ‘course. Um, how ‘bout the next OA meeting you guys—and anyone else who’s interested—stay behind for a bit and we’ll talk more about it, yeah?”

“Absolutely, yeah, we’ll be there,” Lenny says with a grin.

“Alright, great, see ya then.” Zayn smiles, claps him good-naturedly on the shoulder and then turns to head back to the booth.

“So…we might have some new recruits,” he says to the table at large once he’s settled back down in Liam’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*the craic has basically become like jam pony for anyone else who used to watch dark angel lol i had to do it...)
> 
> but anyway i know this update wasn't really all that exciting and probably not really worth the long wait but hope those still reading at least found this okay and that you have a good weekend :)


	3. The One Where They All Get Dumb T-Shirts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i found out recently that friday is apparently the worst day for uploading, it's basically like dooming a fic to death which might be at least part of the reason why i had such a sharp drop in readership once i started trying to get myself on a semi-regular posting schedule but anyway that's also why i'm gonna be switching to monday updates for these last couple chapters so just a heads up to those still reading to be on the lookout for updates on mondays instead of fridays now

“No. No way in hell. I’m not wearing that shit,” Alec says staunchly.

Sam pouts. “Come _on_.”

He’s currently holding up a red t-shirt that says Thing 22 on the front in the style of the cat in the hat. He’s had one made for each of them and he’s been trying to convince them for the last week or so to adopt them as their “official” uniform on missions. It hasn’t gone well.

To be fair they do need to come to a consensus at some point because so far they’ve just been going out in their regular street clothes. No one’s down with plain black, understandably, but they can’t seem to settle on anything else as of yet. And although Zayn does kind of secretly like the t-shirts, when it comes to wearing them on missions he’s with Alec. They’re cute but they’re way too identifiable, not to mention no one’s gonna ever take them seriously in that, and he says as much.

With only a few of the program outliers still left to track down their operation has mostly shifted to vigilante policing as of late, going after common criminals to leave at the cops’ doorstep, so they need something that’s gonna still allow them to be stealthy now that being recognized is even more of a concern.

It’s Louis who’s surprisingly the voice of reason. He comes down to the basement sometimes to help out with the hacking side of things and he’s been listening to this entire argument with barely contained amusement but now he speaks up. Just says, nonchalant and matter-of-fact, “How ‘bout just navy blue, you know, like the cops? I mean you’re basically policing the streets anyway, right?”

The five of them just look at each other and there’s mirroring blank expressions that Zayn is sure are all to mask everyone’s slight embarrassment at the fact that in all this time not one of them thought of that.

“So…I guess it’s settled. We’re all idiots. Any other problems anyone wanna air out while we have Louis at our disposal so he can solve it for us?” Rory says.

*

When Zayn comes home from their recon meeting later that evening wearing his Thing 12 shirt Liam just dissolves into giggles.

*

“Goddammit,” Alec gripes at the tail end of their next mission, pulling out the knife sticking out of his thigh.

They’d been going after a group of drug-runners but even with all the recon they’d done there were way more of them than they’d all anticipated. The rest of them had been too overrun trying to subdue their own sets of attackers to see the knife coming or have a chance to stop it.

It’s his bad leg to boot—the one that Zayn’s since learned he broke on a mission and wasn’t really given a chance for it to heal properly before he was sent back out on another—and to top it all off he looks to have broken his ankle, though it’s probably a minor break at least.

“Wouldn’t have happened if you were wearing your Thing 22 shirt, bet he would’ve thought you were too cute to stab then,” Sam remarks once the rest of them have managed to get everyone else knocked out and tied up.

Alec rolls his eyes.

Kira comes over to help him up but Rory just looks him up and down and says, completely serious, “Meh. Walk it off.”

And it's so ridiculous yet so reminiscent of their time in the program—not that anyone had ever actually said it in so many words of course though they may as well have—that after a brief pause it has them all breaking out into fits of laughter, even Alec.

Suffice it to say it quickly becomes her catchphrase.

*

It’s a Tuesday morning when Zayn gets a letter in the mail addressed from Hannon’s office.

“What’s that about?” Liam says coming over to the door with a fresh mug of tea in hand for Zayn and peering at the envelope with him curiously.

Zayn shrugs. “Dunno.”

He hands Liam his own mail and rips open the envelope from Hannon, pulling out the single sheet of paper inside and scanning the page.

“It’s a memo about a—a notice of execution. For the….the Handler A-ndroid,” Zayn announces.

Liam goes pale. “They…they kept it _alive_ all this time?”

Zayn nods, reading between the lines of rest of the memo. “Bureaucratic reasons. No one knew what to do about it so they just kept shuffling the paperwork from department to department this whole time, staying the judgment, until finally someone made a decision. The execution date’s set for this Friday.”

“Do you…d’you want me to go with you?”

“No,” Zayn says shaking his head. “I think this is something I should do alone.”

It’s mostly true, but he also doesn’t want Liam to ever lay eyes on that thing if he doesn’t have to, doesn’t want him haunted by the nightmare of that memory.

And so on Friday he puts on his court suit and meets Hannon at the government building the execution is taking place at.

They’re directed into a lift that takes them down to the basement and they walk the stark grey halls together. It feels eerily reminiscent of the bunker and there’s an unsettling kind of irony in the fact that this is where Handler A’s life will come to an end. Remorse bubbles up within him at the thought, and only grows stronger when they enter the room it’s to take place in and are greeted by the sight of Handler A on the other side of a panel of glass, strapped to a gurney inside the execution chamber. The process doesn’t take long. They start the series of injections and Handler’s A struggling body—half gleaming metal, half flesh and bone—weakens in its struggle against the restrains, soft pitiful animalistic noises at his plight going quieter and quieter until finally he is completely still and silent against the gurney.

Handler A may have been an asshole but no one deserves to live like that. It was a mercy, this execution, and Zayn can only hope, despite all the bad Handler A may have done in life, that he finds some kind of peace in death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all credit to silverbellsringing for the name handler a-ndroid, idk if they're even still reading this but if you see this big thanks and shout-out for the name idea!
> 
> also one more special shout-out to monny_plum for the prompt that inspired the beginning scene with them fighting over team outfits, i know it's probably not quite what you were asking/looking for but i tried to work it in as best i could so i hope it's at least satisfactory :)
> 
> as always thanks so much for reading and i hope everyone has a good week!
> 
> [eta: sorry to anyone who might have gotten double notifications or notifications that two chapters were posted, ao3 glitched out on me and tried to act like it wasn't trying to post ch. 3 for some reason and when i went back to try and post it again, it posted the re-do as ch. 4 and all of a sudden ch. 3 was in fact showing up so i had to go back and delete the "ch. 4" that was really just ch. 3 repeated but yeah sorry for any confusion or false hope that may have caused]


	4. The One Where Zayn Gets Shanked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

More and more operatives have been coming to join them ever since Zayn found out there was so much interest and in the ensuing weeks their little operation has grown from five to nearly twenty-five, with still even more coming every week.

Zayn never imagined all those months ago when the seeds of this idea first started growing in his head that it would become a Thing like this, but here they are. They’ve got actual units now, groups of four or five operatives that go out on designated nights each week to take down criminals almost like a shadow police unit and it’s crazy but he’s so incredibly proud at the same time.

He and his own team are just getting ready to go out on another mission when a guy comes waltzing out of the lift and walks right up to Zayn. Zayn doesn’t recognize him, is pretty sure he’s never seen him in any of the OA meetings at least, though to be fair he doesn’t know _all_ the operatives and from time to time they do get recruits from outside the meetings.

“You here to join, then?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s see your marks.” It’s his standard routine for anyone he doesn’t recognize just in case. If there’s one thing he’s learned in all his years it’s that you can never be too cautious.

The guy obediently rolls up both his sleeves, revealing the barcode and tally marks and Zayn nods his approval.

“What’s your name?”

“Zero.”

“Your real name, no designations here,” Zayn says, and he hadn’t thought anyone in the program was even assigned the designation Zero, as far as he knew they only ever started at one, went to fifty and then started back again—which also means there’s probably quite a few former Twelves out there—but still that doesn’t mean they never tried it he supposes.

“That _is_ my real name.” The guy shrugs. “My parents are weird.”

“Right. Okay, well, uh, go ahead and suit up. There’s some extra gear over there. You can come with us tonight but you’ll probably be on another unit next time. Up to you which one. You can go with one you already have friends on or just shop around till you find one where you feel like you’re a good fit. Doesn’t really matter to me. Other than that all you really need to know is that we have one rule, and one rule only. We don’t kill. I don’t care what they’ve done or what you think they deserve. You cross the line and you’re out. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Outside, in the alley behind the Foundation building, they all pile into the van and quickly debrief Zero on the mission on the way. He gets a bit of a shock when he sees Alec’s eye cams transmitting to one of Danny’s monitors. Apparently they didn’t have those in his base, but he’s even more surprised that they’d even still want to use them now.

“We tried to looked into getting them removed,” Alec says, gesturing to himself, Rory, and Kira and shrugging, “but none of the doctors out here are willing to risk it. They don't know enough about the tech and no one wants the blame falling on them if one or all of us ends up permanently blinded or brain damaged or something from the surgery so we figure as long as we still have ‘em why not make good use of ‘em, y’know?”

Danny pulls into an alley a couple blocks from the condemned building where some drug-runners are supposed to be meeting. It’s always a condemned building. Or a warehouse. Or the back of a restaurant or convenience shop. Honestly bad guys are so stereotypical it’s ridiculous.

They all file out of the van and immediately split up, Rory and Kira heading in the direction that will take them around back of the building, Sam and Alec to the side entrance, and Zayn and Zero to the front.

“Just stay on my six and follow my lead,” Zayn says as they come out of the alley to the main street and head toward the building’s front door. Zayn’s meant to be the distraction as usual and he pulls his hood up, hunches his shoulders against the cool night air, Zero following suit.

They come to the two hulking guys standing guard at the front door, one of them puts his cigarette out, stubs it under his boot and eyes them critically as the other throws an arm out to keep Zayn and Zero from walking in where more guys stand guard just inside the door.

“Oi, where do you think you’re going, bruv?” the man blocking their way says.

“Come on, mate, we just need to see Johnny,” Zayn pleads, scratching fervently at his arm, adding a bit of a whiny tone to his voice and a shiver for effect.

“Please, he said he’d meet us here and it’s so cold, we just need a little,” Zero adds, copying Zayn’s tone and huddled stance.

The man drops his arm and Zayn can practically see the moment when it registers, the moment his gaze goes from critical to bored as he gives them another once-over, clearly thinking ‘typical junkies,’ and decides to let his guard down.

“Come back later,” he says gruffly. The second man stays silent but just rolls his eyes at them.

“Aw, come on, have a heart,” Zero says.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t turn away two loyal customers and just leave us out in the cold like this, would ya? Come on, mate, we’re good for it.”

The man looks to be getting annoyed now. “Yeah, well, Johnny’s _busy_ right now, so come back l—”

Except he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because in the next second gunshots are ringing out from inside the building.

That’s their cue.

Zayn steps forward and grabs the first man’s gun from his hip lightning fast before he even knows what’s happening, head butting him so hard he immediately falls to the ground in a slump like a heavy sack of potatoes while Zero disarms the second guy and knocks him out with the butt of his own gun.

Zero goes to holster the gun automatically but Zayn shakes his head.

“Don’t need any accidents. We’re just here to disarm and disable and then we leave ‘em for the police to deal with.”

Zero nods, dropping the weapon, and following him inside and all in all the mission goes mostly to plan and Zero holds his own fairly well.

He and Zayn follow the echo of gunfire to the heat of the action, joining the others in the fray and it’s a familiar dance as the five of them (plus Zero) work in tandem to take down a few at a time. Sam punches out a woman and a man and kicks another man towards Zayn who knocks him out with a swift elbow to the side of the head while deftly dodging blows from yet another and pushing a third Kira’s way; Kira grabs the guy and shoves him headfirst against a wall while tripping up a woman that Alec had been going hand to hand with, giving Alec just enough time to grab her securely by the hair at the same time as he knocks a gun out of a another man’s hands just before the man can fire off a shot aimed for Rory, who grabs the now unarmed man by the jacket and rams him into the woman Alec’s holding in a double head butt so they both fall to the ground at the same time even as she fends off two others, while Zero takes care of any stragglers on the outskirts. In minutes they’ve got the whole gang of them cuffed and spread out around the floor in various states of consciousness while Alec puts out an anonymous call to the police about suspicious activity at their location.

There’s a faint pain in Zayn’s side but he doesn’t pay much attention to it until he hears Zero say, “Oh shit,” and looks up to find the kid staring at him.

Zayn looks down at himself and is surprised to find his shirt matted in blood. It’s hard to see given the dark color of the fabric and lack of light in the building but the sheen of it over his ribs it is clear even in the darkness and he pulls his shirt up to inspect the damage.

“Goddammit,” he says dryly when he sees how bad it is.

One of the guys he’d taken down had had a shank and he’d known the guy had gotten in a swipe at him but he’d thought it was just a scratch.

Sam snorts a laugh, loud and brash. “No sex for _you_ for the next week. Liam’s gonna be pissed. Well…maybe not so much about the no-sex part but definitely about the you getting hurt part.”

“Shut up,” Zayn gripes even though he knows Sam is right.

Alec makes a face like that the guy in the red cup meme. “I’d hate to be on the other end of that conversation. If that doesn’t do the job first Liam’s definitely gonna murder you when he finds out.”

“That’s exactly why he _won’t_ find out,” Zayn says looking at them all pointedly as he yanks his shirt back down in annoyance. He hopes the ‘if anyone of you tells him you’re dead’ message is clear enough from his face.

Rory snorts. “Good luck with that.”

When the police sirens are close enough they make their way deftly out the back of the building and to the van.

Danny’s eyes go wide when he sees Zayn covered in blood. Had it happened any earlier he probably would’ve seen it all on the monitors but as it is he pretty much always turns them off as soon as the fighting’s done—necessary footage only, that’s their rule. Which means he’d missed the whole reveal and ensuing conversation.

“Did you get shot? Please tell me you didn’t get shot. Oh God, Liam’s gonna kill us both.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Calm down, it’s just a scratch.”

“Oh? Do scratches yield two pints of blood now? Move, lemme see,” he says batting away Zayn’s attempts to block him from inspecting the wound himself.

“Ooh, that’s deep,” he says with a grimace.

“That’s what she said!” Sam says loudly, miming hitting a drum and symbols as he makes a ba-dum-tss sound.

“I hate all of you,” Zayn says.

*

Zayn stitches himself up in the van with the first aid kit they keep handy and makes Sam switch shirts with him so he won’t have a bloody shirt to explain to Liam when he gets home. Sam’s a bit stockier than Zayn so it’s a little loose on him (he’s hoping Liam won’t notice the difference too much), but Alec, who’s closer to his body type if a bit taller, had flat-out refused, not wanting to have any part in Zayn’s relationship drama.

“No way, you’re on your own here, lover boy, I am not becoming an accomplice in this. Least this way when Liam asks I can still say I had no part in it.”

Zayn had thrown his bloody shirt in the direction of Alec’s face, which of course hadn’t had quite the full dramatic effect Zayn was going for since Alec had caught it just before it could hit its desired target. “ _If_ he asks,” he corrected.

Alec had just rolled his eyes. “You know he’s gonna find out eventually. You might be able to hide the pain but you can’t hide the scar and even for you that’s gonna leave a nasty scar.”

Zayn shrugged dismissively. “By the time he sees it it’ll have blended in with the rest anyway. He won’t even notice it.” And then he’d finished up the last of the stitches, turning to Sam with pleading eyes and seconds later he’s tugging on Sam’s shirt as Sam tugs on his soiled one with a grimace and a wrinkled nose.

“This is all kinds of unsanitary. This is how people get AIDS, you know.”

Rory snorts. “I know all our education was kind of stunted considering, but last time I checked I’m pretty sure that’s _not_ how you get AIDS.”

“Whatever. It’s still unsanitary. I can’t believe I let your stupid puppy dog eyes talk me into this,” he says with an annoyed glance at Zayn as he holds the still damp part of the shirt away from his stomach.

Zayn smiles smugly, packing back up the first aid kit and is about to turn back to tell Danny to head off when Zero, who’s been relatively quiet since they got back to the van, suddenly pipes up.

“Do you talk?” he says from the corner, looking at Kira inquisitively.

There’s a tense silence as everyone braces anxiously for what might happen next.

Kira just regards him calmly, arms crossed leaning against the wall of the van. “I do when it’s to tell nosy ankle-biters to fuck off.” And then she smiles, overly sweet, while still managing to look menacing like she’s secretly plotting all the ways she could murder him and Zero shrinks back.

Rory, Sam, and Zayn all discreetly press their lips together to hide amused smiles while Alec just lets out a half-amused snort. Kira’s badass and she knows it, but she’s also a big softie at heart so her penchant for scaring the living daylights out of the younger ops is rather hilarious.

Danny just shakes his head in only partly sincere disapproval. “I thought we talked about scaring the children, Kira.”

“But it’s so fun,” she says, piercing eyes still on Zero.

Danny shakes his head again but Zayn can see the edges of a smile playing at his lips as he takes the van out of park and pulls off.

*

Back at home Zayn artfully dodges Liam’s come-ons, hard as it may be.

“But you’re so hot when you come back from missions,” Liam says with a petulant pout, trying to pull Zayn down into bed with him where he’s apparently been waiting (as he’s wont to do on days when they don’t meet up at the pub).

It’s a funny kind of role reversal when Zayn finds himself almost forcibly turning Liam down, pulling out of his grasp and moving away from the bed as he shakes his head and says, “’M really tired, babe, just wanna shower and go to sleep.”

Liam relents and by the time Zayn gets out of the shower Liam’s thankfully already fast asleep. Crisis averted. For tonight anyway.

*

Ironically it’s not the first few days afterwards that are the hardest. The pain is relatively easy to ignore even in those early days, and only gets easier once it starts to really heal. But that’s not the hardest part. He can hide the occasional grimace or flinch when he moves the wrong way too abruptly or when Liam touches him a bit too close to the still-tender wound. But he can only come up with so many excuses before it starts to look suspicious. Saying he’s too tired or not in the mood for sex or a cuddle is one thing but locking the bathroom door so Liam doesn’t accidentally walk in on him in the shower and going out of his way to avoid changing in front of him is another entirely.

He manages to hide it for all of a week before Liam finds out and really he should have seen it coming. Liam corners him just as Zayn comes out of the shower fully dressed yet again. He’d been waiting just outside the bathroom door and, arms crossed, he corners Zayn right in the doorway.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, or are you just gonna keep this avoidance thing up forever?”

Zayn sighs, avoiding Liam’s eyes, shrugging and trying to discreetly move past him. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s _not_ nothing.” Liam doesn’t move, standing his ground and continuing to obstinately block Zayn’s path.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Zayn tries, shrugging again.

“Well, tough luck. We’re a team, yeah? We agreed no more major secrets. So. I’m gonna stand here until you tell me what’s going on.”

Zayn sighs, leaning heavily against the doorframe in resignation. No hiding now. He raises his hands in surrender as he says slowly, “Okay…don’t…don’t freak out…”

He lifts the hem of his shirt tentatively until the jagged pink line just below his lowermost rib is visible.

Liam is, predictably, angry. More so at Zayn being hurt (and being kept out of the loop) than at Zayn himself, but still.

Zayn sits gingerly on the edge of their bed now while Liam paces and angry-rants in front of him, Zayn’s head bowed, nodding like a scolded child but he’s completely unprepared when Liam suddenly stops in front of him, blowing out one short hot breath through his nose, before saying curtly, “Teach me.”

Zayn blinks, looking up at him in confusion. “What.”

“Teach me,” Liam repeats, tone even more insistent. “Teach me to fight like you.”

“Liam—”

“ _No_. Whatever you’re about to say, whatever protests you’re about to make, don’t bother. I’m tired of always being a passive onlooker in my own life. In _our_ lives. I may not be as strong as you or be able to move as fast as you but I can learn. And I can help where I can. I’m just, I’m sick of this. I’m sick of watching you go out and save the world by yourself while I sit at home worrying and not being able to do anything about it, not being able to _help_ , and on top of all that being so vulnerable. I don’t wanna always be just a damsel in distress waiting for the next attack, or the lonely housewife staring wistfully out the window waiting for my vigilante husband to come home. I wanna be able to hold my own in a fight, and maybe even one day be able to fight with you and protect you if you need it.” Liam drops down to the bed, fingers tracing the line of the still newly forming scar on Zayn’s now bare abdomen, the dark stitches long since faded and dissolved by now. “So that maybe I can make sure things like this don’t happen,” he adds, tone softer, gentler.

Zayn just looks at him, brows furrowed, trying to puzzle out if Liam’s really serious or if this is all just part of a fit of frustration. He’s not sure Liam really knows—really _realizes_ —what he’s asking.

Zayn could train him, sure, but he’d always be more at risk than any of them. Though he supposes, given that there’s no longer a threat of fighting _other_ operatives that doesn’t matter too much. And sparring with operatives—especially the best of the best in their case—can only make him that much stronger, that much more prepared than the average fighter. So that a fight with the everyday criminals that have pretty much become their regular adversaries by now would be like a piece of cake. It won’t be an easy feat though, training as hard and as fast as he’d need to and he tells Liam as much, trying to gage his level of commitment to this.

“I mean, like…I know some basic stuff,” Liam starts, “…from boxing and that but—”

“You took boxing?” Zayn interrupts.

Liam looks away briefly. “Um, yeah, just—just for a little while. When I was younger. I, just, um…things were—things got kind of…bad…for a while…after—after you disappeared. And, um, boxing helped. At least…you know…for the physical stuff…”

Physical _abuse_ , Zayn’s brain unhelpfully fills in.

He sighs, pulling Liam down to the bed with him so they’re lying face to face, legs still dangling over the edge.

“I just…I need to know that you’re serious. That you _know_ what you’re asking. These aren’t just a bunch of fun, adrenaline-inducing midnight adventures to pass the time, these are _real life or death_ situations, Liam. Guns, knives, drugs, people shooting at you, people trying to stab you, beat you to death. The underbelly of the city. And the—the sides of _me_ you might see…they won’t be pretty.”

Liam reaches out to rest a hand over his jaw, press their foreheads together. “I know,” he says softly. “I know what I’m asking. And I know that I’m asking a lot of you too. Training me, letting me do this with you, _trusting_ me to despite the risks. But…ever since that day…when they took me…and I had to watch, helpless, while you gave yourself up for me…” Liam shakes his head, tendrils of hair brushing against Zayn’s face. “I don’t ever want any thing like that to happen again. _I wanna be able to fight for you_. And for myself too, but mostly…I wanna be able to fight _with_ you. A team. In every way. You protect me, I protect you…yeah?”

He looks into Zayn’s eyes and Zayn’s nodding before he even really knows what he’s doing because how the hell can he say no to that?


	5. The One Where They Ride Off Into the Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (also known as The One Where The Good Guys Finally, FINALLY Get Their Win and Their Happy Ending)

Liam’s with them on their take-down mission of the last rogue program runner.

There’s a delirious and sick kind of thrill running through Zayn at the sight of Liam’s smug smirk—even cuffed and a little worse for wear as he may be at the moment. At the knowledge that this is already over and their target doesn’t even know it yet.

Two days ago they’d gotten the drop on the guy’s location.

“Got a hit!” Danny and Louis had yelled in unison from the computer station. The rest of them had been in the middle of a group sparring/training session with Liam and he’d gamely taken advantage of their brief distraction to volley himself out of Sam’s hold, knocking Sam down to the mat, and using the momentum to sweep-kick hard at everyone else’s legs and then transition into a high-kick aimed at Zayn.

Poor Sam had been the only one truly caught off guard, though Alec and Rory _had_ stumbled a bit in their narrow dodge of him. Zayn though had still had half an eye on Liam, had a feeling he might try something like this, and caught his leg in a vice grip mid-air before it could kick him in the chest, surprised to find Liam’s full weight behind it for once. While Liam had no qualms about using his full weight with the others, usually when he and Zayn sparred he held back, despite Zayn telling him countless times that it did him no good to practice if he was just gonna keep pulling his punches half the time, especially lest he get in the habit and get himself into trouble by doing it accidentally in a real fight.

Grip still tight around Liam’s calf he’d raised an eyebrow in curious surprise and tugged Liam into him until they were chest to chest, Liam’s leg still up by his waist, pinned around his hip.

Liam laughed and relaxed against him at the same time as Alec rolled his eyes and muttered, “Gross,” under his breath, walking off towards Danny and Louis.

Zayn ignored him. “You didn’t hold that one back,” he said curiously, inches from Liam’s face.

Liam shrugged. “Knew you’d catch me.” He dipped in to steal a quick peck and then leaned back again adding, “Plus that one wasn’t aimed for your pretty face so I didn’t feel as bad about it.”

Zayn laughed and let him go, dropping his leg back to the floor gently, and then clapping a hand over Liam’s shoulder proudly, mumbling into his jaw, “That was a good move though, babe. Proud of you.”

Liam giggle-shrugged and a still-affronted Sam scoffed at them in annoyance from the mat below as Rory helped him up.

Moments later they’d all been crowded around the quadruple-monitor set-up Louis had engineered for himself—because “what is this the stone ages, one screen is _not_ enough, how the hell do you all get _anything_ done, honestly”—as he explained what he’d found.

Less than an hour later they were infiltrating a condo on the other side of town, just in time for the owner to get home and find them there. Tied up to his own dining room chair with the threat of all six of them looming over him he wasn’t very hard to break.

“Go to hell,” he spat in answer to every question at the start.

Zayn had just laughed. “Already been there.”

And then he’d dropped his hood and let a self-satisfactory smile grace his face and watched recognition dawn in the man’s eyes. Watched him go from mildly annoyed—wrongly assuming that they were just common criminals, street kids or a gang maybe—to bone-chillingly terrified after one look at Zayn’s face. Though he may have currently been working security for the last former program runner they were after, he’d been a TAC Agent at the military school base during the third iteration. He’d surely seen firsthand the utter desolation and destruction Zayn had left behind in his wake.

“Y- _you_ …”

“Me,” Zayn said, in answer, smile going just that much wider, just that much more satisfied. He turned to the others in the contemplation, still hooded and silent behind him, menacing and sinister looking. “What do you think?” he said slowly, teasingly. “Should we go for the vital organs first or straight for his dick? Or maybe both at the same time…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not getting paid enough for this. Look, he’s staying at that place over on Fifth, okay? The formerly condemned one that’s supposed to be under development. Well, officially anyway. He owns the realtor company and the contracting company so he’s making it off like he’s gonna build a bunch of expensive condos there but really he’s planning to just knock everything down and abandon it and then sell the land to the next highest bidder but for now he’s just using it as a temporary place to stay in the city and to handle any illicit business dealings. It looks a mess on the outside but inside he’s got it all furnished and everything, state of the art, real fancy-like.”

“I don’t give a fuck what it looks like, just tell us where we can find him,” Zayn spat in the man’s face.

The man just nodded over-enthusiastically, stuttering over his words in his haste to get the rest of his explanation out. “Right, right. Um, okay, fuck, okay, look, he’s away on business right now, in Kuwait or something I think, but he’ll be back in a couple of days. His flight lands at Heathrow at 5:35pm and he always goes straight home, it’s a 42 minute drive from the airport to his building, but he’ll probably wanna stop wanna for a burger and chips or something on the way so maybe like 50 minutes? Um, the building’s eight stories, plus an underground car park, his flat’s on the top floor, like the whole floor, penthouse suite style but he usually handles business stuff in the basement, the rest of the floors are mostly empty so he’s really only got cameras on the top floor, the ground floor, the basement, and the car park. He keeps about three to four personal bodyguards with him at all times and usually another four to five to man the building, but at least two of the building guards take smoke breaks around three and six, at least for the afternoon guards. I’m not sure about the morning guards cause I only ever do the afternoons and I really only come in on the weekends as extra security. But I’ll tell you anything else you want to know, okay, just _please_ let me go…”

“Oh, we will…eventually…after we’ve had our fun, of course.” He turned to Liam then. “Wanna do the honors, babe?”

Fifteen minutes later they were walking back out, leaving the man who’d kidnapped Liam and those poor innocent kids all those months ago bloodied and writhing in agony on the floor from their special concoction.

Now Zayn and the others wait perched in the basement rafters of the abandoned building-turned condo while Liam acts as the distraction. Zayn had wanted to go himself. Hadn’t wanted Liam to take this kind of hit for the cause, and as the usual distraction (not to mention someone who couldn’t get hurt the same way Liam could) Zayn was the obvious choice anyway, but Liam had insisted. The moment they got back from the TAC Agent’s flat Liam was resolute, wouldn’t back down for anything.

“ _No_ ,” Zayn had said the moment the words were out of Liam’s mouth. “ _No_. Absolutely _not_ , Liam, are you _insane_?”

“ _You_ do it all the time—”

“That is _not_ the same and you know it.”

“Obviously, but I’m just asking for this once. You do it every other night and sure you heal but so will I, it’ll just take me a bit longer that’s all.”

“Liam, they could beat you to a pulp, break your bones, _shoot_ you, that’s not—”

“So, you’ll stop it. Before it gets that far. We can plan it, down to the minute, we’ve got time, just—just please let me do this. Just for this one last time. _Please_ , babe. Every week you go out there and you risk your life for this city, for all those kids, for _us_. Let me do this for you, just this once, yeah? I can take a few punches, Zayn, you know I can, and the minute it starts to get too bad you can swoop in and end it but just…let me do this, please? Let me be the one to shoulder this, just this once, for you, for us.”

Hands on either side of Zayn’s face he’d looked Zayn in the eyes and Zayn already knew before he’d even managed to get the words out that he was going to agree yet again. Took a deep, slow breath in, then out, placed his hands over Liam’s on his own face and said okay.

Now he’s looking down at Liam with his split lip and black eye and bruised jaw, bloody teeth and all, and his heart lurches but there’s another part of him, a darker part that gets a sick kind of thrill out of it. Not at seeing Liam hurt but at how badass he looks, even bruised and bloody he’s still so beautiful, so in charge and in control and just the right amount of the cocky that it’s a little bit of turn on. Which is probably all kinds of messed up, especially considering the situation, but it’s like Liam always says – messed up together. Two messed up peas in an utterly messed up pod.

Their target’s making some sort of speech now—and Zayn will never understand what it is with evil villains and their goddamn dramatic speeches—but he’s only half-listening anyway, too distracted by Liam, though he tunes in long enough to catch part of it. Something about Liam being a halfwit for even thinking he’d ever be able to outsmart the man and get past his security without being noticed, for Liam daring to think he could possibly steal from him, for being dumb enough to not only get himself caught so easily but also to come here alone with no backup and not even a weapon to fight back with.

Liam snorts, flashing bloody teeth at him in a cocky smile. “Your first mistake was thinking I would ever be caught without _allowing_ myself to.” Zayn hears the distinct pop of Liam dislocating his thumbs just like he taught him to get out of his handcuffs as he speaks slowly and deliberately. “Your second was being dumb enough to leave me conscious.” Zayn can hear the slight metal rattle of Liam starting to work his way out of the cuffs. “Your third was assuming I needed any kind of weapon to defend myself.” His smile gets wider now, more cocky, more sinister, as he slips his hands the rest of the way free and pops his thumbs back into place behind his back. “And your fourth…was assuming I came alone.”

That’s their cue. Zayn grins smugly as he drops down from the rafters with the others. The guards outside are already cuffed together in an unconscious heap and given that they’re all former TAC Agents they’ll be waking up in a world of pain too from their special concoction. But now comes the fun part. Because with him being the last one, they’ve got extra special plans for this one.

They leave him awake, naked and chained to the front door of his own building in excruciating pain and lie in wait on the roof of a nearby building, watching it all play out just how they planned. Cops arrive on the scene (the ones they called in themselves with an anonymous tip) and then the news crews and then firemen and EMT’s (to help cut him out of the chains when the police can’t) and then a steadily growing crowd of onlookers. Above him hangs a giant banner across his building with a message written in red paint that reads: _I am the last of my kind. We have escaped justice for far too long. The time has come for us to repent and pay for our crimes. Call us what we are. Child molesters, murderers, monsters. The program is no more and will never be again._

Up till now the public’s been protected from the truth, the details of the crimes committed (and relation to the program) by all those they’ve turned in so far kept quiet. There’d been those who’d speculated of course. But now there’ll be no question. Everyone will know the truth about who and what they are. Even in the prisons. Especially in the prisons, where it’ll matter the most. Because this is the kind of thing that makes national news and everyone knows who prisoners hate the most, what they do to child molesters. Rotting in a jail cell was never gonna be enough. Not to pay for all the evil they did. But now every single person they’ve put behind bars will get their dues and will pay them for the rest of their miserable lives. Their families will know the truth, the country will know the truth, maybe even the world if the news spreads that far. They won’t live a single day more without torment and ridicule. Every single day will be torture. They’ll finally, _finally_ truly pay for all that they did.

He doesn’t know when he started grinning, whether when the banner went up, when the police showed up, when the news cameras and news helicopters showed up, or maybe even before all that. Maybe even that first moment he’d jumped down from the rafters, or the second he saw Liam’s sinister cocky smile cuffed to that chair. Maybe he started then and never stopped. But all he knows is he’s grinning now as he looks down at the scene before them, a manic kind of grin big enough to split his face as he hears another set of propellers beating against the wind in the distance.

In the commotion of all the police cars and fire trucks and cameras and other news helicopters, theirs goes relatively unnoticed as it lands on the roof that it’s probably not meant to be landing on, though it’s not as if it matters considering everyone else in the area is so distracted they’ll be gone before anyone even knows they were there anyway.

Liam claps excited hands on Zayn’s shoulders and there’s a giddy kind of spring to all their steps as they bound over and up into the fuselage where Louis, Harry, Niall, and Sarah are already waiting, Danny at the cockpit.

“Took ya long enough!” Rory says, Kira giving a playful smirk that says she clearly agrees.

Sam is the only one still hanging back outside on the roof, eyeing the helicopter with a skeptical and mistrustful gaze.

“What the fuck are you doing arsehole? We have go to!” Alec says over the loud noise of the beating propellers.

Sam shakes his head staunchly, crossing his arms as he frowns up at the vehicle and then over at Rory and Kira pointedly. “No way. I’m not setting foot in there until I know it’s been doused in at least three coats of bleach.”

“Oh, get the fuck over yourself,” Alec says, rolling his eyes and reaching out to literally yank Sam up and inside.

The second they take off Louis pops champaign. Well, one bottle out of the six he brought—“I’m not about to stand here and pop five more bottles of champaign, I’m way too pretty for that, and anyway one was already pushing it, you peasants can pop your own.” He hands a bottle each to the rest of them and him, Liam, and the others all share the first one, pouring themselves glasses.

“To me, to all of us, and most importantly, to the bad assiest motherfuckers I ever met!” Louis yells.

“Oi! Oi!” everyone yells back and then they’re all clinking bottles and glasses and downing their drinks and the grin still hasn’t left Zayn’s face.

Sarah steals some of Niall’s drink as she always does and Louis and Harry squabble over who gets the last of the little bit of the champaign left in the bottle and Kira and Rory are eyeing each other up not-so-discreetly while Sam and Alec pretend not to be in a glaring contest and simultaneously a race to finish each of their respective bottles first and the whole scene makes him feel so incredibly happy and at home.

Halfway through his own bottle Zayn stops and pours some all over Liam head-first—because none of this would be complete without him starting some sort of food fight of course—and Liam yelps and scoffs and tries to toss the rest of the contents of his own glass at Zayn’s face. For once Zayn doesn’t dodge and just lets him and then he pulls Liam in for a kiss, long and messy and wet, the two of them soaking each other’s clothes and reeking of champaign. He tries to be gentle cause Liam’s lip is still split and his face still bruised but Liam doesn’t seem to care and it’s him that deepens the kiss, taking the lead as he burrows his way into Zayn’s mouth and Zayn’s chest feels so _full_.

Full of love and happiness and freedom. True freedom for the very first time in his life. No more looking over his shoulder, no more worrying, no more second-guessing, no more of it any of it ever again. He’s _free_. They’re _all_ _free_. _Really, truly free_.

Assured by Danny thrice over that the everything’s been cleaned to satisfaction and totally at ease now, Sam leans out the doors, bottle in one hand swinging out into the open air, and whoops and cheers into the clouds, laughing loudly, letting the wind blow through his hair.

Moments later they’re all joining him, screaming and shouting and howling and laughing into the heavens, drunk on champaign and high on life and it’s the happiest Zayn’s ever felt.

*

“You’re sure you wanna do these all at once, mate?”

Zayn nods. “I’m sure.”

He’s laid out in the chair of a tattoo parlor shirtless and in nothing but his boxers, Liam beside him, Louis already with his phone out ready to film, while Harry, Niall, and Sarah look on in anxious excitement. It takes hours but slowly the silly doodles that Louis’ made all over him over the years—the most memorable ones anyway—are brought to life on his skin by the meticulous strokes of the tattoo artist’s gun. Permanent symbols of his years out in the real world: memories of lazy weekend nights and early mornings spent piled on top of each other the living room of their old flat watching reruns of Friends and Bob’s Burgers and Rick & Morty and endless marathons of SpaceMonsters 3000; pizza and Chinese take-away and beer and banter; cuddle piles and late-night whispered conversations and early morning squabbles. His second family. His freedom.

Crossed fingers, a boom box, palm trees and bubble letters that spell out chillin, twin skulls on either shoulder—one smoking in a top hat and the other cracked with crossbones behind it—a giant snake on one arm, a tiger on the other, an alien spaceship, all kinds of birds, numbers, random dates and names of songs and places (where Louis’ favorite musicians have performed), a giant mic, a heart, a gun, a Harry Potter-esque lightning bolt, Voldemort, mandalas all over just because he can, other more sentimental ones of his own creation, names of loved ones both clear and hidden in plain sight, an anime girl in Liam’s favorite old t-shirt, a black bandana, a checkered race flag, a lotus, yin and yang, smoking lips, wolves, wings, their favorite beloved comic book characters, the word love on the fingers of his right hand and special symbols that only Liam knows the meaning of on the other (the only time he’ll take off the ring that now sits on one finger forever with a new permanent halo now tattooed above it), the most important mandala of all, and still more. It’s all inked into his skin forever now. Over all the scars and bad memories. The good over the bad. The justice over the injustice. The love over the hate. The happiness over the pain. The freedom over the slavery.

When it’s done he feels tingly all over. Probably a little because of the tattoos, but mostly from giddiness, buzzing just under his skin.

Fully dressed again, he exits the shop with a bright smile and Liam and all his friends flanking him. Outside the sun is bright and he tosses Liam his helmet and pulls on his own as they mount his Harley together and they wave goodbye to the others, promising to meet them and the rest of the team back at The Craic later, a bunch of knowing looks on everyone’s faces because they all know what they’re really leaving to do, not that Zayn minds one bit cause when has he ever had shame when it comes to Liam.

Liam wraps strong hands around his waist, pressing fingers into his tingling skin like a tease and Zayn grins as the wind whips through their clothes, the rumble of the engine thrumming underneath them as they take off to christen their new house. Well. Re-christen. After all, it’s them so it’s already been christened like a thousand times over in almost every possible area of the house, except the kitchen of course. But there’s still a couple of places left they haven’t defiled yet that could use some breaking in. Zayn’s already smirking just thinking about it. Basks in the feeling of the warm breeze over his skin, Liam’s solid weight against him and around him, and the bright sun shining over them as they ride off into the sunset.

 

**_~Fin~_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I actually initially had originally written the draft of that whole badass speech scene for zayn but after finishing the fourth chapter I couldn’t resist the lovely symmetry (with zayn’s ch. 1 scene) and the temptation to make liam look like just as much of a badass so i hope you all enjoyed seeing that different side of liam as much as i enjoyed writing it…
> 
> also i know having sex straight after getting tattoos all over is absolutely terrible tattoo hygiene but i mean it’s fiction and he’ll be mostly healed within the hour anyway so we’re just gonna let them have their dumb happy ending okay?
> 
>  
> 
> **head on over to[the deleted scenes fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14026617/chapters/32305443) to see the engagement story vignette! **
> 
>  
> 
> and now onto the the thank you's...i’m not gonna make any long, essay-length sentimental speeches this time since I’ve already done that twice over now with the other two fics lol, I just wanna give one last SUPER BIG THANK YOU AND HUGE E-HUG to every single person who’s stuck it out with me through this verse and left comments and kudos or sent feedback through tumblr or what-have-you. I love and appreciate you all dearly and there will never be enough words for me to express my sincere love and appreciation and gratitude for you all. Thank you for everything. 
> 
> All my love <3 
> 
> \- Yaz :)


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